


Do You Wanna Talk About It?

by johnny cade (johnnycake)



Series: Switchblades and Leather [35]
Category: The Outsiders (1983), The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 22:16:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15828018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnnycake/pseuds/johnny%20cade
Summary: Johnny and Ponyboy talk about Ponyboy getting jumped.





	Do You Wanna Talk About It?

**Author's Note:**

> i can’t remember who requested this, but i hope whoever did likes it!!

Even in Oklahoma, September was when the nights started getting cold and Johnny had to build a bigger fire than usual to keep himself warm. He walked around the lot, picking up random twigs and sticks he found, as well as pulling some of the lower branches off the trees in the lot, throwing them all into the flames he’d started using his knife and a piece of flint Darry had given him. He’d run out of matches and didn’t have a lighter, so he had to make do with what he could find.

Once the fire was blazing, roaring so high he was almost afraid of it, he sat back down on the car seat and watched the flames dance before him, wondering vaguely what it would be like to be consumed by them. That was one of his greatest fears: being burned alive. He shuddered just thinking about it and yet he couldn’t help thinking about it, wondering what it would be like.

His thoughts were always morbid, but sometimes they were more morbid than other times.

He stared at the stars. He couldn’t see very many stars from the light pollution from the city and from the fire he’d just built, but he didn’t care. He always enjoyed looking at the stars, no matter how many or few he could see. The thought alone made a small smile cross his lips.

He stayed in the lot until the fire burned down, until it was only embers and then he wasn’t sure what time it was. Only that it was late and he was still wide awake. He stood, stretching, feeling his joints crack as he did so. He shoved his hands into his pockets, stepping on the embers to put them out to keep any wayward sparks from drifting into the dry grass of the lot and starting a fire. Then he turned on his heel and walked out of the lot, unsure of where he was going, only knowing he wanted to walk around before he came back or crawled through his bedroom window to go to sleep.

The world was asleep by now, the only sounds now that of the crickets and frogs singing to each other in the dark of the night. He alternated between staring at the sky, so much more full of stars now without the fire to obscure them, and staring at his shoes, barely visible in the night, blurred by the darkness. He watched the pavement pass by beneath him, watched the sky pass by above him.

And he felt something he rarely did: peacefulness.

He turned down the street, heading towards the Curtis’s house. He was planning to head into the woods, walk down the trails and maybe spend the night in the treehouse he’d found there years ago, the treehouse he’d made his own. He still wondered who it had once belonged to and why it had been built in such a remote area around no other houses. He wondered too why it’d been abandoned.

As he got closer to the Curtis’s house, he could make out someone sitting on the front steps, his hands clasped in front of him, staring at the ground. He was only a few yards away when he realized it was Ponyboy. And he looked like he was about to cry.

He looked up when Johnny stopped walking to stare at him, his own brows drawn together in concern as he bit his lip. “Oh hey, Johnny,” Ponyboy said, quickly swiping at his eyes and blinking rapidly as he looked away to hide his tears. “I didn’t see you come up.”

“Hey, man,” Johnny replied and walked through the front gate that surrounded the Curtis’s property and sat next to Ponyboy on the front steps leading up to the house. “What’s up?”

Ponyboy still wouldn’t look at him. He shrugged and shook his head. “Nothin’.”

Johnny gave Ponyboy a look. “I know that ain’t true, man. What’s goin’ on? Darry yell at you again or somethin’? You know he don’t mean it. He’s just tryin’ to look out for you, that’s all.”

But Ponyboy shook his head again and said, “Nah, it ain’t that. It’s just...” He looked at the sky, his face twisting as he tried to hold back the tears forming again in his eyes, still blinking rapidly. “The Socs gettin’ me today really bothered me, y’know? I ain’t ever had that happen to me before. And-and I know what happened to you was worse, man, I know that, but it made me realize they don’t care about the territory or nothin’. They just hate us so much they want us to hurt. No matter what.”

Johnny knew what Ponyboy meant. He’d felt the same way after he got jumped and he absently reached up to touch the scar on his face. “I know,” he said quietly, his own shaking hands clasped in front of him now. “It ain’t fair, huh?”

Ponyboy shook his head, not bothering to wipe away the tears this time. “No, it ain’t.”

They were both silent for a moment and then Ponyboy stomped his feet on the ground, making Johnny jump before he stood and shouted, “It ain’t fair! None of it is fair! It ain’t fair they beat you how many times now? And-and I know they did worse too, Johnny. I ain’t dumb. Even if you don’t talk about it. I know they did worse. And then you gotta deal with your folks treatin’ you bad too. And so do Dally and Two-Bit and my folks are dead and Steve’s old man is gone all the time. It ain’t fair! Why do we gotta have it rough all the time? Just cause we’re poor? It ain’t fair.”

Johnny wanted to tell Ponyboy everything would be okay, that everything would be fine, that he didn’t have anything to worry about, but even thinking it tasted like a lie. Instead, he stood too and placed his hands on Ponyboy’s shoulders, saying, “Listen to me, Ponyboy: we can’t control what happens, okay? It ain’t our faults this is happenin’ and it ain’t fair neither, but...gettin’ upset about it like this is just gonna make it harder, okay? So just-just don’t think about it.”

Ponyboy looked at him miserably. “How can I not?” he asked and reached out to touch the scar on Johnny’s cheek. He wasn’t expecting it and he flinched away. Ponyboy withdrew his hand quickly, saying, “S-sorry. It’s just...every time I see your scar I know the truth. I know what’s happenin’. And it’s real hard to forget it when I can’t do nothin’ to change it.”

By now Johnny had pulled away, stuffing his hands back into his pockets, scuffing the ground with the toe of his shoe, watching it in the darkness, illuminated slightly by the light coming from the Curtis’s living room and when Ponyboy finished speaking, he looked up again and said, “I know it’s hard, man, I do, really, but…you can’t let yourself think about it all the time. You’ll go crazy.”

Ponyboy gave a wry smile as he said, “You mean like you?”

Johnny smiled back. “Yeah,” he said. “Like me. You don’t wanna be like me, man. Scared of everythin’. I can’t even walk around outside at night without shakin’.” He pulled out a cigarette and Ponyboy pulled out his lighter, giving Johnny a light, who in turn shared with him a cigarette.

They sat back down on the Curtis’s front stoop, staring up at the sky, this time the stars were dimmed by the light coming from the Curtis’s living room, but they didn’t care. They stayed out there, sitting in silence, staring at the stars until Darry came out and told Ponyboy it was time for bed.

“See ya tomorrow, Johnnycake,” Ponyboy said, ascending the stairs and going inside.

Johnny waved his own goodbye, but didn’t move from the steps. He stayed there, smoking, until his eyes blurred from how tired he was and he staggered as he made his way home, climbing in his window, making hardly a sound before he stripped and crawled into bed.

But he didn’t fall asleep yet. He lay awake, staring into the darkness for hours, thinking about what Ponyboy had said to him.

_They hate us so much they want us to hurt no matter what._

_It ain’t fair. Why do we gotta have it rough all the time? Just cause we’re poor?_

And in the darkness of his bedroom tears filled his eyes and he swallowed hard, not bothering to try to blink them or swipe them away as he whispered, “It ain’t fair.”

Because Ponyboy was right. It wasn’t fair.

And despite what he’d said he couldn’t keep himself from thinking about it.

Not all the time. Not even most of the time.

But especially not when he lay alone in bed in the house of the people who hurt him.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> ha that fire scene made me go :’) shit.
> 
> also i know this starts out sorta like that other ponyboy and johnny fic i wrote not too long ago, but i couldn’t rly figure out a better way to start this so *shrug emoji*
> 
> i haven't been gettin as many comments on my writin lately, so if you read this pls comment!!


End file.
